


Ring My Bell

by blue_pointer



Series: Dancing in September [2]
Category: I'm Dying Up Here (TV), Iron Man (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Bisexual Tony Stark, Casual Sex, Closeted, Depression, Drug Use, F/M, Hollywood, Hook-Up, M/M, Partying, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 00:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14249181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer
Summary: Clay and Tony only hooked up once, it was just sex, it meant nothing. So why can't Clay stop thinking about Tony?When Tony sees "Bucky" again at a party in the Hollywood hills, Tony's determined not to lose him a second time. But can "Bucky" overcome his fear of being outed enough to take Tony up on his offer?





	Ring My Bell

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is not what any of you wanted from me tonight, but I couldn't get Clay Appuzzo's sad sad face out of my head all day.

It had just been a one-time thing. Clay had had plenty of those. Shit, they were practically all he had. And sure, people wanted repeats. He’d had to cut Cassie off--she was already dangerously attached--and give his serial-fucks to Kay, but that was just to keep up appearances. There would always be other girls. And guys--though no one could know about those.

So why was it that Clay couldn’t stop thinking about the rich guy from the Other Side? He’d had such pretty eyes. But lots of his cruising partners did. Was it because he’d been rich? No. Luxury was nice, but Clay didn’t plan on being around long enough to envy anyone else’s success. So what was it? Those eyes haunted him.

Maybe it was because the guy--Tony--had seemed to understand. To know something about Clay that no one else did--or cared to. And that was dangerous. He could never be with anybody twice who was that dangerous. Once would have to do.

 

*

 

Tony had gone back to Other Side at least once a week looking for that sweet piece he’d had in the car. The trouble with casual sex was that it was SO casual, it left you in the lurch when you actually found someone you might want to see again.

‘Might’ was too weak a word. Tony fantasized about that pretty face when he jerked off. He wanted to run his hands all over that hard body, to take that big cock inside him, to scream Bucky’s name. Okay, it was obviously an alias, and not a very good one at that. But that was fine by Tony. He would call that sugarlump whatever he wanted, so long as Tony could get more sugar. But how to find him again?

 

*

 

Oddly enough, the next time they saw one another was at a party. Neither of them really knew the host, but he’d come to Goldie’s the night before and really enjoyed Clay’s act, so he’d invited him.

Tony moved in the same circles the host did; he was constantly at parties with the same people. Tony had hard and fast rules about not getting attached to anyone at those parties, but then...he saw **him**. Tony was fucking a pretty blond on the couch--just some flirtatious lap-sitting gone too far--when he saw that pretty face walk through the room.

Their eyes met, which was the most goddamn awkward thing when your dick was inside somebody else. Why had Tony even looked up? Oh yeah, she was boring him. He could see from the panicked look on Bucky’s face and the speed with which he left the room that he was making for the exit. Tony quickly excused himself--no easy task when neither you nor your partner has come yet--and ran to the front of the house, tucking himself back into his pants. Fortunately for him, Bucky had brought that leather jacket Tony remembered, and he took time retrieving it on his way out.

“Hold on there, Cinderella,” Tony said, blocking the door by casually leaning against it. “Where are you going in such a hurry. I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Grey-blue eyes looked down at the floor when Bucky answered, in a harsh whisper, as though he didn’t want anyone to know they were speaking. “There are people I know here. This can’t happen.”

Tony smirked. It had been a good memory for him, too, then. “What can’t happen?”

Bucky’s nostrils flared. “You know exactly what.”

“Do I?”

The next thing Tony knew, they were at the back of the dark coat closet, trading hot, sloppy kisses, tearing at one another’s clothes. He could feel the anxiety--the fear of getting caught--pouring off of Bucky, but he needn’t have worried. Bucky came as fast as he had the first time, and Tony felt both proud and a little disappointed.

“You really just gonna leave me here like this, sugar?” he asked, sliding fingers into Bucky’s long hair from the nape of his neck outward. God, so thick. He could do shampoo commercials with hair like that.

“Fuck no.” Harsh whispers seemed to be this guy’s thing. But Tony didn’t mind. Especially not after Bucky slid to his knees and swallowed his cock. This time Bucky fingered him, and Tony came seeing stars.

“Oh, god, you’re beautiful,” he panted, clinging to Bucky’s shoulders for dear life, afraid he was going to disappear again. “Give me your number this time, huh? We have to do this again.”

Bucky turned his head, and Tony saw the hesitation. But that was good, right? It meant he was thinking about it.

 

*

 

Clay felt sick to his stomach. Not because he’d just swallowed Tony’s come, but because he really wanted to see him again. Somewhere they could be alone and not be paranoid they’d get walked in on. Somewhere Tony could hold him the way he’d done that first night in the car.

But he couldn’t give Tony his phone number. He had to be himself on the phone. It could be his agent. Or Cassie. Or his mother calling. So what the fuck else was there?

“Why don’t you give me yours?” Genius. Tony was so confident, so smooth. He had enough money to be gay if he wanted to. Tony might even be his real name. Problem solved.

“Okay, but.” Why was Tony hesitating? “If I do, promise you won’t freak out?”

“Why would I freak out?” Bucky should probably get back up on his feet, but it felt more intimate this way, kneeling on the carpet and looking up at Tony.

“Just. Promise me.”

“Yeah, sure. I promise.” What was he so worried about? That his wife would answer? Clay could pretend to be a telemarketer. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“You’re a peach, Sunshine.” Wow, that was a charming smile. Bottle that stuff. Clay’s eyes started to close when those callused fingers caressed his cheek.

 

*

 

Okay, so there was something about Bucky’s home that he didn’t want Tony to know. He was fine with that. And if Bucky promised not to lose it when he found out who Tony was, he could have the house number. Hell, he could have all the house numbers. Look at him kneeling there even after the job was done, leaning against Tony’s waist like a doting pet. And the way his eyes were closing, like no one ever touched Bucky like this. It hurt Tony’s heart. “You’re adorable,” he purred. “Come back to my place, and let’s fuck.”

“Huh?” That look of panic was back. Fuck. Tony had to think quickly before his disco stallion took off at a gallop.

“We’ll leave separately. The address is on my number with the card.” (Tony had several cards, but one of them was the official hook-up card that had both.) “Get there however you want. Just get there. Deal?”

“I--I’ll think about it.” There he went, shying away again. Bucky had probably never done more than cruise. He was clearly terrified of anyone finding out he liked to suck dick.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry about it.” Tony backed up, put his pants back together. “Enjoy the party. See how you feel later on.” He couldn’t help a little flirtatious eyelash flutter. “But the booze at my house is more expensive, and the coke is--like you--uncut.” He smirked, inviting.

Bucky mumbled his thanks for the invitation, but he left the closet a little too quickly. Tony made sure to slip the card into one back pocket before patting that tight ass goodbye--hopefully not for long.

 

*

 

Clay found himself nervously licking the taste of Tony’s balls off his lips for the remainder of the night. No way he could just go over to that guy’s place after hooking up twice. God, they’d hooked up twice! He ran anxious fingers through his hair, pulling at it on the way out. He’d never hooked up twice with the same guy--not that he could remember, anyway.  But he’d wanted Tony so badly, from the second he’d laid eyes on him again. What was wrong with him?

So many things. He could hear his father yelling at him, at the back of his head. His mother crying about how he was going to hell. Clay had to drown them out. Wine and ludes did the trick, after a while. Clay didn’t remember much after that. He didn’t feel much, either, which was nice. So nice.

He woke up naked in a strange bed with Cassie curled up against him but on top of the blankets, fully clothed. Wait. Naked? Where were his pants? Clay panicked--which was hard to do on ludes. He scrambled and fell out of bed. Cass must have been enjoying more of the same, because she didn’t stir when he pushed himself across the floor, trying not to notice the state of the carpet. Ah, pants. Clay dug inside his back pocket. He thought he’d felt Tony slide something in there, and voila. It was still there. That had been a close one, though. What if someone else had found the card there? What if he’d lost it? How would he have explained that he had Tony Stark’s business card in his pocket?

Wait.

Tony Stark? The son of that arms dealer who testifying before congress? No way. Weren’t they like kajillionaires? Bucky dragged himself to the nearest phone and dialed the number, wearing nothing but a shirt. (Coordination was not his strong suit at the moment).

“Go for Tony.”

He was so glib. Like a big Hollywood producer. “I don’t know what time it is.” Clay’s voice was like gravel, and his tongue felt like a lead balloon in his mouth.

“Cupcake.” Tony sounded surprised. “I thought you forgot about me.”

“No.” Clay was shaking his head, even though Tony couldn’t see him. Stupid. “Not me.”

“Aww, you sound a little fucked up. Did you have fun without me?”

“No.” Clay found--to his chagrin--that he couldn’t not answer honestly. What was wrong with him?

Tony chuckled, and it was a rich, purring sound. He was pleased. Clay could feel it through the telephone wires. “Are you going to come see me?”

“Car?” When had Clay closed his eyes? He felt like he was falling asleep again. And he could only speak in one word sentences.

“Sure, I can send one for you. Are you still at the party?”

Clay glanced around. It wasn’t Cassie’s place. Sure as fuck wasn’t his place. “Think so.”

“Alright, sugar, head out to Mulholland and Sepulveda. I’ll have Happy pick you up.”

 

*

 

Clay felt in a daze, like it was all a dream. Getting to the pick up spot was like slogging through molasses (and he knew it was all in his head), but he made it. What had Tony said? He’d make him happy? Who the hell was that guy? He had some nerve, making proposals to Clay. Clay could have any woman he wanted. He didn’t need some adorable rich guy with a height impairment and a soft, round--sense of humor--to try to get him into a relationship. He refused! He was going to walk home right now!

“You okay, pal?”

Clay blinked, startled by the sudden appearance of a black limo and a chauffeur who looked like he’d been trying to get his attention for a few minutes. “You don’t know me,” Clay answered, hurriedly, jumping into the passenger seat, much to the chauffeur’s surprise.

“Rides go in the back,” the man told him.

“Just drive,” Clay growled. All he needed was to be seen climbing into Stark’s limo by someone he knew.

“The boss is gonna hear about this,” the chauffeur grumbled. But the seats were so comfy. Better than Clay’s couch at home. And he fell fast asleep, leaning against the passenger window.

Something was crawling on his face. Clay woke with a half-shriek, batting at his assailant, only to be greeted by Tony’s laughter. “Aw, sugar. Did someone disturb your beauty sleep?”

Clay glared at him. Then it dawned on him that he’d fallen asleep in Tony’s limo, and the driver was gone. “Come on, handsome,” Tony told him, tugging at his waistband. “Let’s get you to bed.” When Clay started to protest, Tony waved him off. “It can be one all to yourself. I’ve got plenty, believe me.”

Sliding out, Clay wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck for balance. He found he couldn’t remember how many pills he’d taken. That was probably a bad thing. “Oo, sugar, I like the way you lean on me.” He nuzzled Clay’s shoulder, and Clay had to resist the urge to bat Tony away again. “Like you mean it.”

“Drunk,” Clay explained. But he refused to admit the warm, fuzzy caterpillar that was inching its way up his solar plexus at the feel of Tony so close against him.

Then came the worst part: Tony put him to bed. Like, actually found him clean pajamas and made him rinse out his mouth and then tucked him into bed. Silk sheets? Oh god. This was terrible. Clay wanted so badly to hold out his arms for Tony, but he didn’t. And Tony tucked the blankets around him and let Clay go with a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then he left.

Tony’s lips felt so good, Clay had determined to jerk off, thinking about them. But then he slept again.


End file.
